


let your heart be light

by effervescentt



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2017 World Juniors, Christmas, Gift Giving, I blame Michael Buble for all of it, M/M, like Hallmark-movie cheesy, this is cheesy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 17:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13082190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/effervescentt/pseuds/effervescentt
Summary: Mat turns the mistletoe over in his hands, considering it. Michael Bublé is still playing, his silky, jazzy voice putting weird ideas into Mat’s head. It could work, he thinks. For a kiss, but then what else? Mistletoe can’t sustain anything meaningful, and Mat likes meaningful. He didn’t always, but he’s a changed man now.It’s Michael Bublé’s fault, really. Or maybe it’s the stupid mistletoe. Either way, it’s definitely not Mat’s fault. He is much classier than a cheesy Christmas gimmick. Maybe. It’s Christmas Eve, people get weird around the holidays. Maybe Mat can blame it on that.





	let your heart be light

**Author's Note:**

> this is, by all accounts, ridiculous and really cheesy and i really don't know what's going on here? there is very little hockey and a lot of mat's inner turmoil.  
> i like to think that, when they speak, thomas and mat are speaking french for the most part. it’s probably more like a mixture french and english, because mat’s french is pretty good but he doesn’t know it completely or effortlessly, i think? idk, i take many liberties in this, so just go with it
> 
> also, i edited this as i wrote but nobody else looked at it. so it could be really bad or also obviously unedited.
> 
> title from 'have yourself a merry little christmas' but the michael bublé version, because obviously.
> 
> merry christmas and happy holidays, enjoy!

**December 24th, 2016 - 8:00 am**

Mat wakes up in his own bed, alone. It’s unfortunate, because he was really hoping to wake up on Christmas Eve with a nice warm body wrapped around him. Instead, he gets crisp hotel linens and the early-morning sun to warm him up as he sleepily putters on his phone for awhile, nothing he’s not used to.

He’s scrolling through Instagram when he hears movement from the bed next to him. Having roomed with Thomas for the entire tournament thus far, Mat has noticed a couple things. First, Thomas sleeps like a he’s having a terrifying nightmare at all times, especially when he starts to wake up, rustling around like crazy. Mat witnessed this firsthand when they fell asleep in the same bed together after a particularly brutal practice. They were watching a movie, cuddling, and it was like, 2 in the afternoon, perfect nap time in Mat’s opinion. Thomas fell asleep first, but it didn’t take long for Mat to slip away soon after. Next thing he knew it was a couple hours later and an elbow was repeatedly pushing into his ribs - not the best thing to wake up to. Thomas said his apologies, he’s a reckless sleeper sometimes, it happens. He looked so sheepish and embarrassed saying it that Mat wasn’t  _ not  _ going to forgive him.

Also, for having relatively short hair, Thomas sure knows to mess his up while sleeps. Maybe it’s the cut, maybe it’s his ridiculous sleeping habits Mat doesn’t really know. He knows that it’s cute, though. There’s this once piece that always sticks up in the back, and sometimes if he goes to sleep with wet hair it’ll be somewhat curly in the morning. It’s nice, looks pretty soft, and Mat kinda wants to touch it. But he doesn’t pay that much attention, so. 

On this particular morning, Mat looks over from his cocoon of sheets to see Thomas raising his head from a pile of pillows. He checks for drool, rubs his eyes, and looks over at Mat who’s kinda just staring at this point. “G’morning,” Thomas says, voice appropriately rusty from sleep. He looks like he’s still trying to decide if he wants to be awake, eyes squinting in a way that suggests he doesn’t.

“Morning. Merry Christmas Eve,” Mat says, kinda laughing because he’ll never get over how ridiculous Thomas is in the mornings. He scrolls a little longer, not really paying attention to anything, just wanting something to do with himself. Thomas’ head is buried back in the pillows once again, but Mat doesn’t think he’s fallen back to sleep. More like he’s trying to refuse to acknowledge that the day is even happening at all. Mat swears he hears a muffled “Merry Christmas” echoed back to him, but it could honestly just be a groan of resentment. No Eve, but Mat’s not picky, and it’s close enough.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Mat says, reluctantly stripping away the sheets and getting out of bed. Thomas doesn’t reply, doesn’t even show a sign that he’s heard him, but Mat knows better. Thomas is hardly human in the mornings, but that’s just the way it is. When he gets out, coming into the room to search for clothes, Thomas is halfway vertical. A step in the right direction. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, in his boxers, hair a mess, on his phone. He gets up to stretch, puts his phone on the charger. It’s a routine Mat knows quite well at this point, and Mat likes that he knows it. He likes that he can shower first and not feel like he’s overstepping because it takes Thomas a solid 10 minutes before he can even open his eyes properly. He likes that Thomas always forgets to charge his phone overnight so Mat can laugh at him every morning. He likes that they have routine down now, so Mat doesn’t have to think about it. He likes that they don’t need to talk that much and still feel comfortable together. It’s good, easy.

“Do you have plans today?” Thomas asks, in French, rifling through his own suitcase. For as much as he hates mornings, Thomas never forgets to pick out his clothes before he showers, which is smart, objectively, because it’s December in Canada and just because the heat’s on like crazy doesn’t mean that it isn’t chilly, so early in the day. Mat’s still crouching trying to look for appropriate clothes with only a towel to cover himself. Not like he’s self conscious, but he likes to pretend to be decent.

“Breakfast with the family, I guess we’re celebrating today, since tomorrow we’ll be busy preparing for Russia,” Mat says, also in French. It’s an off day today, players getting the chance to chill out before they go into game mode starting tomorrow. They play Russia the day after Christmas. It’s fine, it’s just Russia. No big deal. Anyway, he’s got bigger things to worry about right now, like his outfit. He decides on jeans and a sweater, throwing them on. “And then the party tonight, I guess. What about you?”

“Same deal, I think, or something like that, I don’t really know yet,” Thomas says, and now he’s the one staring. Mat makes a point to remember this, because usually he’s the one staring with no abandon, but he’s okay with the roles reversed, too. “Did you get me something?” and now, Mat swears to fucking god, Thomas is  _ smirking  _ at him. Who even smirks anymore? But why the fuck not, right? So Mat smirks back. He takes a moment to ponder the question.

“Yeah, I did, actually. You’ll get in like, two weeks though, nice and shiny, little heavy though.”

Thomas smiles, now. A warm, honest smile. His head tilts up a bit, and Mat thinks he might die. “Doesn’t count buddy, but nice try,” he says as he comes over, slapping him on the shoulder and smirking at him again like the shit he is. 

Just as Thomas is about to go into the bathroom to take a shower himself, Mat says “Well, I did get you a gift, but it’s a surprise. Kinda the point of gifts, you know? You’ll get it later.” He winks at Thomas, then turns around to figure out what the fuck to do with his hair, ultimately giving up and running his fingers through it.

If Mat wants to make it on time to breakfast he has to leave like, 10 minutes ago. Oops. He grabs the necessary items, along with his coat, and walks out the door, still smiling all stupid because he really is an idiot.

By the time he makes it down to the lobby, Mat realizes he’s well and truly fucked. He doesn’t actually have a gift for Thomas, doesn’t know where to start or how he’s gonna find one by the evening, on Christmas Eve of all days. It’s cool though, he’ll figure it out.

  
  
  


**December 24th, 2016 - 1:00 pm**

Mat’s in some random shop in the city. He was able to escape from his family for a little while, using the excuse of team bonding. They’re all kinda used to rushed Christmases. Over the years, there hasn’t been enough time to celebrate it like they used to when he was younger, drawn out for the whole month, practically.

He was able to drag Mitchell out with him, miraculously, his family having the same idea to celebrate earlier rather than later in the day. Currently, Mitchell’s looking at a random head massager that looks kinda like a whisk. He holds it up to Mat. “What about this? Says it’s supposed to help relieve stress. Thom could probably use that,” he says, and then he’s trying it out. His eyes roll back a little, so it must be good.

“I don’t know, doesn’t really work with the vibe I’m going for, you know?” Mat replies. He’s holding a bottle of beard oil, with a fancy rubber stop and everything. He puts it back, though, because while Thomas is great in many, many ways, his beard-growing capabilities aren’t quite there yet.

“What vibe are you going for, exactly? The ‘I-wanna-bang-you-vibe’? Cause we’re probably in the wrong place for that” Mitchell says, kinda snarky, putting the massager back. Mat turns away, choosing to stay silent rather than respond because, well. He’s not wrong.

They leave the store eventually. It was busy and full of mostly cheesy gifts that Mat doesn’t think Thomas would appreciate much. It’s whatever, he’s not stressed about it or anything.

They’re walking with their heads down, because it’s fucking cold, but Mat can’t help but look at all the shops with their Christmas decorations. There’s a lot of people out on Christmas Eve, lots of cars. People are laughing as they walk past, chatting with friends and family and just generally having a nice time.

Mat always liked Christmas time. He knows what to expect, feels comfortable even though it’s miserable outside. He likes to appreciate the decorations, how entire cities will get together to celebrate the holiday season, something they won’t do any other time of year. It makes him feel warm and happy, like he could stay in this special kind of bliss forever. He likes Christmas like he likes Thomas, softly but sure. Mat always liked Christmas, knew it was a good thing from the moment he could understand what it was. He feels the same way about Thomas. He knew he was good from the moment they met, didn’t have to wonder if Thomas would understand his specific kind of humor or the way he carried himself. He was always easy, always good, definitely worth more than a head massager.

  
  
  


**December 24th, 2016 - 9:00 pm**

It’s Christmas Eve, and Mat’s ready to fucking party. Well, sort of. The party that Hockey Canada has set up for them is pretty dry, as far as parties go. He’s seen better. It’s probably for the best though, since they play Russia in like, 48 hours. Michael Bublé is playing, there’s food and drinks, and Mat’s pretty sure he sees Santa in the corner. 

Dylan walks over to where Mat is pouring himself a glass of punch. At least, he thinks it’s punch, could be anything, honestly. He’s got something in his hands that Mat can only guess is mistletoe. “I’m not kissing you, bud,” Mat says, like he would ever even entertain the possibility.

“Of course you’re not, but I saw it on the ground and then I saw you over here and figured if  _ anybody  _ was gonna kiss anybody, it’d be you,” Dylan says. He’s holding the sprig out for Mat now. It looks kind of crumbled, like it’d been stepped on a few times before Dylan so graciously picked it up and brought it to him.

“Well. That’s pretty low of you, assuming that I just go around kissing people.”

“Don’t you?”

Mat scoffs. “You wish, man, but no. I don’t, at least not lately. Been kinda busy, obviously.”

“Well, you know, if you get the chance. Think of it as a Christmas gift.” Dylan hands him the mistletoe and starts backing up, turning around. “Tell Thomas I said hi!” And then as quickly as he arrived, he’s gone, probably to go annoy McLeod or anyone who’ll let him.

Mat turns the mistletoe over in his hands, considering it. Michael Bublé is still playing, his silky, jazzy voice putting weird ideas into Mat’s head. It could work, he thinks. For a kiss, but then what else? Mistletoe can’t sustain anything meaningful, and Mat likes meaningful. He didn’t always, but he’s a changed man now. 

It’s Michael Bublé’s fault, really. Or maybe it’s the stupid mistletoe. Either way, it’s definitely not Mat’s fault. He is  _ much  _ classier than a cheesy Christmas gimmick. Maybe. It’s Christmas Eve, people get weird around the holidays. Maybe Mat can blame it on that. 

So he looks around, eyes searching. He doesn’t find what he’s looking for, so he walks outside and wow, it’s pretty fucking cold. He sees Thomas, laughing with Jules and Jozy, wearing a coat because Thomas is never not prepared. Mat walks over, and they all turn to look at him. Thomas is smiling the way he was in the morning, with his jaw jutted out. He looks happy, not cold at all. 

Jules and Jozy are smiling, too, but Mat doesn’t really notice. They both say something quick in French that mat doesn’t quite pick up, saying hi to Mat and walking leisurely inside. It’s just Mat and Thomas outside, now, because nobody else is as stupid as they are, apparently. Mat sticks his hands in his pockets, curls into himself as much as possible, and looks at Thomas. 

Thomas is still smiling, but now it seems like he’s happy with how miserable Mat must look. “Cold outside, eh?” He says, like it’s the most obvious fucking thing in the world.

“I wasn’t thinking about that, I was thinking about how I have to give you your present,” Mat says. Thomas is looking at him again. He’s looking at Mat like he sees something, but can’t figure out what it is. A little amazed, curious. It makes Mat feel warm and kind of giddy. Being the focus of Thomas’ attention is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a blessing because, well. It’s Thomas. It’s a curse because Thomas is intense and overwhelming. Mat thinks he might be going delirious.

“So… what is it?” Thomas looks Mat up and down, like he might some gift-wrapped box just hanging around.

“Oh!” Mat kind of forgot about his purpose for even coming out here in the first place, the weight of his gaze taking over his brain. He reaches into his back pocket where the mistletoes is hiding, pulls it out and shows it to Thomas. “I couldn’t find anything that I thought you would like in stores, so I turned to nature,” and Mat is joking, but he’s also not. Thomas really is hard to shop for.

Thomas grabs the mistletoe, turning it over like Mat did earlier. He looks like he’s thinking really hard about something. He’s still analyzing the stupid little sprig when he tells Mat, “I’m not gonna kiss you under the mistletoe.”

Mat is kinda glad Thomas is so invested in the mistletoe, that way he doesn’t see the look of disappointment on Mat’s face. He should’ve known. It was stupid and cheesy as hell, anyway. “Well, yeah - I mean, obviously it’s joke, man-”

“It looks a little crumpled?” Thomas says, cutting Mat off, and finally looking up. He’s still smiling. “Is that like, bad luck or something?”

“Um.”

“I just mean, how would it work? Am I supposed to hold it? Or are we supposed to hang it up first? Do you have to do anything else with it?” And now it seems like Thomas is mocking him, in the subtle way that makes him feel embarrassed for even trying

Mat wasn’t really trying to go into the history of the tradition when he came outside to talk to Thomas. He just wanted to try, feeling lucky the spirit of Christmas surrounding him. Maybe Thomas would find it funny and kiss him, quick and chaste, or something. He doesn’t really know what’s going on here. “Honestly, man, I wasn’t trying- it wasn’t serious or anything. Dylan actually gave it to me, ‘cause he’s fuckin’ weird, and then he just like, disappeared and left me with it, so I thought, why not? The mistletoe isn’t- it wasn’t actually supposed to be your gift. I honestly didn’t think about gifts until you asked me, and it’s fucking not easy to go shopping on Christmas Eve, but I had this like, leather bracelet?” Mat pulls it out of his pocket. It’s just this brown piece of leather, sewn around the edges to keep it together. “I’ve honestly had it forever and I bring it with me, but I never wear it, but I think it’s lucky? I dunno, like I said, I don’t wear it, and I already have my luck stuff, so..” Mat trails off, fucking  _ finally _ . His face is probably even redder than it was from the cold. 

Thomas just looks at him for awhile, and he won’t stop fucking smiling. Mat’s gonna die tonight, right here, after making a fool out of himself. “Dude,” Thomas says, and he stops smiling, face still pleasant. He takes the bracelet. “It’s nice, I like it. I don’t have anything lucky, I don’t think.” He puts it on, turning his wrist over, admiring. “Plus, I liked the mistletoe. It’s fucking cheesy, but it was cute. But we don’t really need mistletoe, you know?”

“We.. don’t?”

“You’ve been pretty obvious all of camp, you won’t stop looking at me, man,” and he’s smiling again. But then again, so is Mat, oddly enough.

Mat scoffs, because he is not that obvious, and tells Thomas as much.

“Dude,” Thomas says. He steps a little bit closer. And Mat may be an idiot, but he’s not fucking stupid, so he knows what’s coming. He smirks at Thomas, like Thomas did to him this morning, starting this whole ordeal. 

“It worked, though, didn’t it?”

“Hmm.. guess we’ll see,” and finally Thomas closes the gap.

Mat is not usually a romantic person, but he swears this is the best moment of his life. Thomas is kissing him, and his lips are as soft as they seemed and his hair is short but long enough to run his hands through. Also, Thomas is wearing a coat, for one, and he isn’t exactly leaving any space for Jesus, which means that Mat can finally feel his fingers. He feels lots of things, actually.

Some amount of time passes, Mat’s not sure how long it’s been. He was mildly preoccupied. And just because Thomas is warm doesn’t mean it’s still not fucking freezing. “We can.. Go inside? If you want?” Thomas says. He’s rubbing Mat’s arm like that’ll help. It’s sweet.

“Yeah, thanks. I think I saw Santa in there too, so. Can’t miss that.” Mat’s happy, and he doesn’t want to go inside, necessarily, would much prefer staying out here and kissing Thomas for hours, but he might die soon, for real, if he doesn’t. And Santa did seem pretty cool.

“No, we can’t,” Thomas says, and he keeps smiling at Mat. Mat really likes Christmas.

  
  
  


**January 6th, 2017 - 12:00 am**

They’re lying in bed, not really saying anything. They mostly reserve their silent cuddles for mornings, but this is a special, miserable occasion. The other guys were having some sort of post-loss pity party for themselves, but Thomas and Mat decided to check out early. They both have to leave early tomorrow, anyway. Mat would very much love to be drunk right about now, but he’ll save that for when he gets back to Seattle.

Mat turns into Thomas’ side. Thomas is staring up at the ceiling, thinking. Mat thinks about Christmas Eve, glad that at least one good thing come out of this tournament. “You know,” he says, softly, into Thomas’ skin, “I did get you that present we talked about, on Christmas Eve. Just, maybe not the one I thought it was gonna be.”

Thomas laughs a little. “No mistletoe, then? Guess the silver will have to do.”

Mat thinks about the medal that is currently lying on the desk in front of the bed. It’s not the medal he wanted, but he supposes it’s a better reward than last year. Second place is better than sixth, not as good as first. But Thomas is right, it’ll have to do.

Mat kisses the freckle he knows that lies right next to Thomas’ ribs. He knows where a lot of Thomas’ freckles are, but we wants to know more. He'll focus on that, for now.

**Author's Note:**

> some things:
> 
> \- mat is obnoxious with his pining, stupid stupid stupid. luckily he’s cute and i can’t help but be fond of him, anyway. he’s also an asshole and a mess from start to finish, but we do what we can.
> 
> \- thomas is perfect, nobody deserves him, especially not mat. his only fault comes when he’s sleeping, so he’s not even aware of it!! rude, how he’s like that. stop being so cool thomas!!
> 
> \- does dylan strome exist? sources say yes but i’m not convinced.


End file.
